What a profoundly unpleasant and deeply ignorant man this James Martin is. A hackneyed scribbler of sub Clarkson nastiness and ignorant prejudice with an obsessive interest in cars, whose implicit claims to masculinity through such bragging suggest over compensation. What a dozy, useless gobsh*te.
Besides his other unsavoury qualities, he displays jawdroppingly brass necked hypocrisy. He writes of his glee in disturbing other’s freely made choice of activity in a publication that consistently decries restrictions made on the individual’s right to freedom of action and that recreation of law abiding middle Englander is persistently disrupted by antisocial elements. His behaviour is no different to the childish, self gratification of the boorish yobs who make the life of many Mail readers so utterly intolerable (apologies to any fellow cyclists that take the Mail, but some editorial consistency can reasonably be expected from a paper that is so identified with a particular social stance). The state restrictions on individual freedoms that I imagine he greatly resents, are necessitated by such callous disregard for the rights of others. He pursued his own demonstrably harmful actions (self aggrandising braggadocio about dangerously driving a noisy, polluting sports car) to the extent that they impinged upon the harmless actions of a group of friends out enjoying a spin in the country.
To speculate upon how much it would please us to hear that one day he had ploughed a brand new Aston Martin DB something or other into the back of a wagon carting cheap processed food to a European owned discount supermarket and being unbelted as a free born Englishman refusing to kowtow to the socialist nanny state, was left crippled by the force with which the steering wheel drove into his face (airbags are for wimps), would make one as bad as he. Rather, cycling induced endorphins give us a more sanguine outlook on those whose views differ from ours; we’re too knackered to waste energy on getting worked up over silly people showing off. To those who thrive on bilious hatred we may appear smugly self righteous. They can rest happily assured that for once in their fallacy strewn lives they’re correct, it is and we deserve to be.
